


Dearest Courfeyrac

by Fancifullauren



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:11:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fancifullauren/pseuds/Fancifullauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehan writes a letter he doesn't intend to send to his love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dearest Courfeyrac

_Muse, travel through my fingertips and produce the beauty that is splendid writing. Use me as your tool for you to write down your thoughts, your divine feelings and emotions. I am but hands and fingers; you are the thought and devotion behind my feeling._

Oh Courfeyrac, sweet and delicate flower, how long have I awaited you? It seems like I have known you for eons, yet I just laid eyes upon you for the first time mere months ago. Have you seen me so long, too? Do you look at me with those eyes as green as the exotic Amazon rainforest and as deep as the Mariana's trench? Are hours of your day and night spent cultivating beautiful thoughts about you and I together? Because all of these emotions belong to me. I have spent far too long examining you from afar; and when I am not near you, I can picture you in my minds eye as clear as if you were standing right in front of me.

I know that you have feelings for me, as I have seen you seeing me. You look with such admiration is hard to not believe that I am some kind of deity. You cannot begin to imagine how difficult it is for me to function and get my duties of the day completed knowing that someone as fair and beautiful as you, sweet Courfeyrac, is examining my every move with such scrutiny that the gods themselves would become nervous. How long will this go on? It's as if I want to stop the world from turning, just so I can find more time to be with you. I want to talk to you for hours, listening to your emotions, delving deeper into your mind to memorize every contour of your brilliant personality. And yet, at the same time, I want nothing more than to put you in a cage far away, locked up so I will never have to see you again and be tortured by the sweet caress of your aura, and I will never have to suffer through the immense agony you cause me, simply by existing. It is because I cannot have you, as to have you would be a distraction from Enjolras' revolution.

I find myself falling asleep at night with your image in my mind, and waking to find that it has not left. I have never felt emotions this strong before. It seems like you are the origin of which my life sprung: that I had not taken in a single breath before you walked into my life. Meeting you was like my birth. I emerged from a weary shell of a human into the full-of-life spirit I am today. It was a combination of your ravishing beauty, your kind words, and the sweet flow of kindness emanating from you that drew me out of my hiding, like water from a well.

It's strange to admit it, but I sometimes reach out for your hand whenever I am feeling especially stressed. I only want to feel your hand for a moment, as that is all I need to send me into a dreamy existence. Oh, your beautiful hands! White as a newborn snowfall, soft as an angel's kiss. Is it shameful that I love every single thing about you?

I hope not. As I lie here, writing this note to you, all I can think about is you, and how I am unworthy of such unspoiled perfection. You will probably never read this note, as I am too bashful a man to ever work up the nerve to present it to you. I am but a humble vagabond, undeserving of the unattainable prince in the highest tower. You may think of me only as a pitiful excuse for a poet, and that is why you look at me with those eyes of yours, eyes as green as the exotic Amazon rainforest and as deep as the Mariana's trench.

And so I lay, sweet Courfeyrac. I lay here, wallowing in my own woe, soaking it in through my skin and into my soul. I long for the brilliant ecstasy of being enraptured by your gaze, but alas, I just dream in my ever-living trance of a life, awaiting your breathtakingly astonishing kiss that may some day come.


End file.
